J. Bertrand - Pattern of Wounds

The words sound hollow but I mean them. She does have my deepest sympathy, even though I took against her at first sight. She has it despite her reaction to my lieutenant. And I have nothing but the old clichés to communicate with, condolences and deep sympathy, even though what I want to tell her isn’t boilerplate at all. I understand what she is going through. Oh, I know what it is to lose a daughter. I’d like to tell her that, only I can’t. I’d like to tell her that above all others, I am the right man for the job.

It would mean nothing to her, though, and I don’t have the words.

“It is shocking,” she says. “That’s exactly what it is. But let me tell you something right now: I am not shocked. I’m not surprised, I mean, that this would happen. It’s just. . For this to happen to her . After all she’s been through. It’s not right, it’s just not.”

She scrubs a hand over her face, dragging her eyes down, her nose, her lips.

“My girl had every right in this world to be happy. If anybody deserved it, she did-and trust me, nobody wanted it more. She loved being alive, my little Mona.” She goes to her purse for a tissue, then balls it in her fist. “And he seemed so good for her at first.”

“Jason Young?”

She nods. “Early on, she took after me. She was a wildcat of a girl, always going with the exact wrong men. She liked them bad.” A wan smile. “And Jason, he brought some stability to her life, you know?”

“When did they meet?”

“I don’t know exactly. She had issues with me.” She makes quotes in the air. “And she was right to, I admit it. But one day I get a call from her and she says she has a good job and she’s not in trouble and there’s a man in her life, too. The first time I met him, I remember thinking, My baby’s safe now. I could stop worrying.” She shakes her head. “That didn’t last. From the beginning he didn’t care for me. That was fine, though, ’cause I understood why. She’d told him, you know. About. . everything .”

I raise my eyebrows. “Everything?”

“You don’t know, then.” She lets out a little moan. “I thought you could look on the computer or something and find everything out.”

“What did she tell him?” I ask.

“I have to say it out loud?” She takes a deep breath. “It was my ex-husband, Simone’s stepfather. He used to do it when I was at work and they were alone together. Starting when she was eleven or twelve.”

The pulse in my temple starts to pound.

“They said I was wrong not to believe her, and maybe I was. The school counselor ended up reporting it, and they took him away to jail. After that, though, whenever there was a man in my life, I was always afraid, you know? That something might happen or she might say that something did. She could be very manipulative. She was always very mature for her age.”

“And this went on for how long?” I ask, my voice dry.

“She was fourteen, I think, when they arrested him. She moved out when she was sixteen, into a foster home out in the suburbs. Those people had a lot of trouble with her. After high school, we kind of lost touch for a while. I used to have a substance abuse problem, but I got that sorted out.”

“Were you arrested?”

“For the drugs?” She shakes her head. “I fell in love is what happened. I met somebody and we were together awhile, and we both ended up going to rehab.” She starts counting on her fingers. “That was eight and a half years ago. The relationship didn’t work out, but once I was clean, I stayed that way. Got myself some work, a place to live, and I never looked back.”

“Okay. So Simone told Jason about all this, and as a result he wasn’t your biggest fan. But you said he was good for her?”

“At first he was. They were so happy before. They had them a nice house, he bought her a new car. I remember on Saturdays, after they were out shopping, they would pull up in my driveway and she’d come in and show me all the things she got. It was sweet, like she was my little girl again. He would wait in the car, listening to the radio or something, but that was fine. I didn’t have a problem with it.”

“What changed then?”

“He got so strict with her. So controlling. She would call me on the phone because he said I was a bad influence. She couldn’t visit me no more. Then he started taking things away from her. He took her credit cards. He even sold her car, and she loved that car. But I would tell her maybe he was right. She was raised without any discipline, so whenever there was discipline, she always bucked.”

“Your daughter had separated from Jason, is that right? Was it a legal separation?”

“She just left, that’s all I know. It was after a big fight. The other thing, in addition to how controlling he got, was he started getting religious, too. He started telling her how she had to dress and who she could be friends with. She couldn’t have any men friends. It was getting scary. Every time she called, I kept expecting her to say he’d hit her.”

“Did she say that?”

“No. She never said it to me, anyway. But she wouldn’t have, because one of her things was that she always wanted to look successful in my eyes.”

“To make you proud,” I say.

“It was more like a competition. Since I failed in life, she was showing me that’s not how she was gonna end up.” Her face goes dead a moment; then she forces a smile. “But like I said, I could understand that. I wasn’t a perfect mother.”

“She never told you what the fight was about, then.”

“All she said was, ‘I outgrew him.’ That was it. She changed jobs and moved in with that professor woman-and that was a terrible decision, too. That woman, Joy is her name, she was just as bad, just as controlling. That’s what Simone said. Always wanting to know her comings and goings, always trying to squeeze more money out of her. I told her she could come live with me if she wanted. But she didn’t. It was habit by then, being used by people. That’s what they all did; they used her. He did, that woman did, everyone did. I was the only one. . She should have come to me, shouldn’t she? This would never have happened.”

There’s clearly no love lost between Candace and Joy Hill. Through the window I can see Bascombe leaning over Aguilar’s cubicle to confer. I need to get into that interview with Jason Young, but first I need something I can use, a lever to pry him open.

“Mrs. Walker,” I say. “According to Dr. Hill, your daughter recently had a falling out with Jason over a loan he promised to make-”

“Oh, that .” She pounces on the subject, eyes brightening. “What a scheme that was. It was all the professor lady’s fault because of the rent being behind. She wanted money from Simone or else. So she put the thumbscrews on her, and what could she do? Jason has lots of money-he works three different jobs, did you know that? — so of course she goes to him. And he says fine, I’ll give you the money, but there’s something you have to give me first. She had to sleep with him again. So he was paying for it, basically, like she was some kind of street hooker.”

“And when was this exactly?”

“That was maybe two, maybe three weeks ago? It was before Thanksgiving, I know that.” She shrugs. “Simone told me about it afterward. She was very upset. She didn’t know what to do without that money, and she couldn’t get him to pay up.”

“Did he come around after that? To Dr. Hill’s house?”

She pauses awhile, thinking the question over. “He’s the one.”

“Did she ever tell you that he’d been to the house? Maybe she saw him outside on the street? Maybe he came to the door?”